Advent
by Banna-nannas
Summary: It's Christmas Eve in the Bates' home. There's lots of love, some old traditions and maybe some new ones. (Banna Modern AU)


**This is my gift to Breakfast-at-Bateses for the batesessecretservice Secret Santa Exchange 2016 on Tumblr. I do so dearly hope you enjoy this bit of Bates Family Fluffiness for Christmas :)**

 **Thanks to mr-and-mrs-bates for the beta brilliance.**

 **Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all :)**

* * *

"I'd better not catch you peeking again, John Robert Bates!" Anna said as she entered the family room, wiping remnants of flour and dough on her apron as she came. "Father Christmas is watching you!"

Her only answer was a giggle and set of thundering footsteps charging off onto their next adventure…or misadventure. She couldn't begrudge the boy his excitement. It was Christmas Eve, after all.

The advent calendar had been a treat over the past month, born of Anna's sudden DIY streak. Creativity struck while keeping young John Robert Bates, better known as Jack, busy on a rainy weekend. All manner of art supply had been resurrected, from the back of desk drawers to the deepest of storage bins in the playroom closet. It was the abundance of empty gift, shoe and jewelry-sized boxes, saved because " _you never know when they'll come in handy_ ," that the idea clicked. Ultimately, they all met their fate, painted, stenciled and decoupaged into festivity. Numbered and arranged on a large board, they became the last of the Bates' holiday decor.

Anna and John had decided to take turns having a go at the boxes, often sneaking bits and bobs in for each other intermingled with little treats for Jack. Of course, he had a turn every day of the month, and had been caught peeking several times. Some boxes had enough room for quite a bit, like that T-Rex figurine and small racing cars, others were simply some sweets and a racy note from daddy to mummy. It was John's turn tonight and Anna wanted to make sure her surprise wasn't spoiled by their sneaky little boy.

* * *

A gust of wind pushed John into the house with finality and he closed the door behind him with a heaving shove. Several white flakes still swirled in the air before coming to rest on the entryway carpet, dissolving on contact. With his hand still pressed to the door, he took a deep breath. Releasing it, he smiled. _**Welcome home. This. This is what you yearned for your whole life.**_

Closing his eyes, he could hear the sounds of Anna bustling about the kitchen. She was likely elbow deep in biscuits and pies for the holiday celebrations and the sweet smells wafted throughout their home. Intermingled with that was the essence of balsam from the "christmassy" candles Anna insisted they have. " _Fake christmas trees don't smell like christmas, John. They smell like nothing. I refuse to have a christmas that doesn't smell right."_ He chuckled at the memory as he opened his eyes to see the very same candles lit on the fireplace mantle. The tree, prominently placed in the front window, cast a soft light across the family room since all other lamps had been switched off. Over the soft music playing, he could discern the sounds of Jack down the hall. Shaking off his coat, small droplets fell to the floor—all that remained of the white flakes that existed moments before.

The kitchen was warm. Sweetness hung in the air, and it wasn't just because his wife was in the room. There was barely a smidgen of space left to spare. Mince pies made a cozy spread on the sideboard adorned with stars and a layer of soft, powdery sugar. Buttery biscuits dressed up like small wreaths and trees were piled high on a platter, looking suspiciously decorated by the hand of their son. Containers of flour, sugar and all essentials lay strewn across the counters. The dishes were a towering disaster in the making. And in the midst of it all, Anna leaned over the center island in deep concentration, her back mostly turned to him. A few strands of hair escaped from her sloppy bun to obscure part of her face. Even though he couldn't see it clearly, he knew she was making the face he loved. He leaned a little to left to see it more clearly… _ **Yep, she's biting her lip. Adorable.**_ She really only did that when she was deeply focused on something. The dough in front of her unwillingly yielding to her demands as her eyebrows met in frustration. He was nearly upon her when she sighed heavily and stepped back to wipe her forehead with the back of her hand.

"It won't let you have your way with it?" He chuckled.

She jumped slightly, startled, having not heard him enter and smirked in response, "unlike you…"

Placing her hands on his chest, they shared a quick kiss.

"What's our little man up to?" He asked as he rested his hands on her hips.

"Being a one-man wrecking crew, I'm sure. With the amount of sweets he's had today, he's not half a loony," she said. Sliding her hands down to wrap them around his middle, she gasped at the floured hand prints left behind, and tried brushing them off. He shook his head, smiling with a shrug.

"It looks like you got him in on the action today," he noted with a nod in the direction of the sprinkled biscuits.

"Oh, yes, he was…helping…or rather helping himself to as many as he could manage. Cheeky little beggar."

John smoothed his fingers along the fabric of his shirt after she released him, returning to her task. Lacing his arms around her waist, he pressed himself to her back, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"He was such a little weasel. I know he thought I wasn't watching, but every time I looked at him, his cheeks were puffed out like a chipmunk."

He snickered softly before pressing a kiss below her ear.

She continued, "But I didn't have the heart to stop him, he was so good all day." He rolled his head to rest against the side of hers only to be met with a round of writhing giggles.

"Mister Bates! Your hair is positively drenched!"

"Oh, sorry love," he chuckled and pulled away, "I really should've thought of a hat, but who knew it would actually be shaping up to be a white Christmas? When was the last time we actually had one of those instead of just singing about it?"

"Well, there was that one…"

"Our first Christmas together?"

"Yup," she smiled at the memory, "in that little flat…I rather enjoyed that Christmas."

"I rather enjoyed that Christmas too," he rumbled, moving in closer again to trap her against the counter.

"It was comfy…"

"Indeed. Spending all day in bed with you was quite comfy." A naughty smile creased his eyes as he took in her flushed cheeks.

"Now, that's enough, you." She shoved at his chest gently, "Dinner's ready soon and I still have another round of biscuits to finish."

"Hmm, yes, biscuits, I might need a sample…since they were so irresistible earlier…" he teased and moved away from her to inspect the treats, "maybe these…" He reached out for a chocolate-dipped-something from the nearest plate which garnered him a swift smack on the hand.

"Don't you dare, John Bates. Those are for our mothers."

"But—"

Her soft smirk took the sting out of her glare. His surrender, marked by raised hands, was made complete by a wink.

"And don't you try to steal any while I'm not looking…Father Christmas is watching." Her voice was playful as she offered a wink of her own. And with pursed lips, she shooed him away.

* * *

The sounds of swishing, jumping and other swashbuckling activities grew louder as John approached the playroom. A few steps from the door, he reached his hand around to patch his eye while he mustered his best "Bum-Leg Bates" persona. Lumbering around the corner with a mighty "Argh," he took the young rascal unawares, snatching him from his perch on the main deck of the Limping Scallawag. His mother wouldn't appreciate him tramping all over the arm of the sofa anyhow.

"Daddy, put me down!" Jack shrieked, feet flailing in the air.

"Daddy? Argh, I be knowing no one by that name," John growled as he hoisted his wriggling son to dangle underneath his arm. "Pirates who don't yield to the fearsome Bum-Leg Bates walk the plank!"

"Nooooo!"

He reached around to tickle the boy's ribs, making him squirm even more. "Do ye yield, then?"

"Yes! Yes!"

"Right then!" He bellowed, releasing his son in a heap on the floor. Miraculously, there was at least one clear space to be found amongst the apocalyptic toy rubble of the playroom. His voice was gravelly as he interrogated, "What do we call ye?"

"Aye, I be Stinky Jack!"

John pursed his lips to try to maintain his fierce pirate face, but the temptation grew too great. Wrinkles deepened from the smile that took over his face, bursting out with a hearty laugh. Jack scrambled up from the floor, giggling, as his father reached to tousle his sandy hair. Nudging a tow truck aside with his foot, he crouched to look him full in the face.

"Why on earth would you pick that name, son?"

His little boy looked so much like his wife when he laughed. Soon, he'd start losing his baby teeth, but his smile still reminded him of Anna's—guileless, but with a hint of impishness.

He brought his hands up to cover his mouth when he answered, "Because I woke mummy up with my feet in her face today. She screamed so loud!" His giggling only got louder when John joined in. "She called me stinky."

He knew he should be scolding him for misbehaving, but he could just imagine his wife's conniption over a pair of smelly, little boy feet. She'd been vocal about smells lately, and more often bothered by Jack's, as he seemed to be full of all the awful ones. John was frequently relegated to 'Tub Time Supervisor.'

"Is it time for our boxes yet?" The voice broke him from his reverie.

"The advent calendar? Oh, not till after dinner, you know that." He stood and stretched his back with a grunt. From his view high above, he could discern his son's glower. "You haven't been peeking, have you?"

Hazel eyes darted along the floor, and raised only high enough to where John had undone his highest button. "No, Daddy."

"Father Christmas knows if you're lying…"

With a huff and and eye roll, he hissed, "yesss."

He really couldn't help but smirk; it was no surprise that Anna's propensity for mischief had been passed on.

"Father Christmas saw what you did, Jack…but maybe he'll change his mind about you, if…"

"If I what?" Eager eyes finally met his.

"…If you clean up in here, maybe you'll get some points back…" Before the words were finished, the small figure sprang into action, scrambling to cram all manner of blocks, superheroes and dinosaurs into their respective homes. "…eh…before it's too late…"

The end of his statement was more of a murmur, as it wouldn't have been heard anyhow by the little tornado whizzing its way about the room. John's head bobbed with quiet laughter and he withdrew to rejoin his wife.

* * *

"Jack, wait for mummy and daddy!"

It was no sooner that they had placed their forks down that he leapt from the table, scampering to the fireplace. Then again, it wasn't the fireplace itself that held such deep interest for him.

"But I waited alllllll day…" Anna shot her husband a knowing smirk at the tone coming from their son. Thankfully, it was almost time for bed. It was true, he had been waiting all day, and his restlessness was rapidly devolving into frustration. Oh, life was difficult for a 6-year-old.

"And you can wait another minute," John called out from the kitchen, dirty plates in hand. "It won't kill him," he quipped while arranging the dishes in the washer.

"It might kill us, though," she scoffed. "I'll bring the cocoa in."

Balancing three mugs on the tray, she ambled into the family room, smiling widely at the sight before her. The advent display took up residence near the fireplace, but it was largely concealed by the boy kneeling before it, bouncing fiercely on his heels in anticipation. She grabbed her favorite mug and left the other two steaming on the table. Relishing the warmth, she snuggled down into her favorite spot on the end of the couch, tucking her feet beneath her.

"So!" John's voice boomed as he joined his family, "We don't have anything special planned for tonight, do we, Anna?" He winked in her direction.

"Yes we do!" Jack jumped in.

Ignoring his voice, Anna answered, "Mmm, don't think so, love"

"But—it's Christmas Eve!" He cried out even louder, standing indignantly.

"I thought so. We should just pop on the telly. See if there's anything good on." He dropped himself next to her. "Umph!"

"But Da!" Jack had thrown himself into his father's chest and placed his hands on either side of his face. "It's Christmas Eve!" He looked desperately into John's eyes. The words tumbled out, "We have our advent boxes to do, and stories to tell, and stockings to hang, and pies to leave for Father Christmas and—"

Laughing, John wrapped his arms around his son. He lifted them up from the couch, "Well, my little man, that's a long list. I think we need to get started. What do you say?"

Anna couldn't help but giggle at the pair as she watched her boy nod eagerly at his father. John shifted him in his arms to fly like a superhero. Swooping deeply, his first stop was to the couch to get a kiss from mummy, "for good luck," then it was off to the end table to grab the family's stockings. Her eyes glimmered with tears at how precious they were. John helped guide Jack's little fingers to the hooks above the fireplace as they hung each stocking one at a time, carefully and patiently. Her chest swelled with pride as she thought of her husband. She couldn't have picked a better father for her child, he was everything she could wish for and more. There was never a day that went by where he wouldn't stop everything to give him his full attention, no matter how tired he was. Even if all he could manage was a bedtime story because he got in late from work, he was always there for their boy. Unlike with his own father, Jack would always know that his father loved him endlessly. Anna's mind travelled from virtue to virtue until her son's sweet voice broke her from her thoughts, "Mummy, it's time for our boxes."

"Oh, goodness me, is it?" She was so absorbed, she hadn't noticed John putting him down, let alone crawling up next to her on the couch. "Well, we better not waste any more time, then."

He grabbed her hand to pull her to standing, "Alright, alright, love. I'm here," she laughed.

"Now, I believe it's daddy's turn too, Jack. Why don't you both get over there?"

The 24th box was in the upper corner, much to John's appreciation. Together, they reached for the lid and out popped a little red bundle of tissue paper with Jack's name on it. While he tore into it, John reached in to pull out an envelope which was angled and crammed within the confines of the small box.

"Yes! Arghh!" A little face spun around to reveal a genuine pirate eye-patch. "It's the real thing! I gotta go see." Leaving his parents laughing in his wake, he sprinted down the hall to the nearest mirror.

John handled his gift with a puzzled expression. The outer envelope revealed a second, smaller envelope reading: **Open after Jack is asleep. For now, just smile and say 'thank you, my darling.' Slip it into your pocket and come give us a kiss.**

He stood dumbfounded.

"Anna, what—"

"John," she warned with a twitch of her eyebrow.

Resigned, he sighed, "Thank you, my darling."

Her eyes sparkled with mirth as she closed the distance between them and raised up on her toes to deliver a chaste peck on his lips.

His mind was whirling. _**It must be pretty racy if Jack needs to be asleep for it. Some adult activities? New garter?**_ The possibilities were endless. Clearing his throat with a grunt, he tried to focus on the evening at hand, tucking the small envelope into his back pocket.

"Love, I think there's a platter in the kitchen all ready for Father Christmas, why don't you go and fetch it?" She asked as Jack reemerged. His eyes brightened at her offer and a proud smile lit his face. Being trusted to carry in a tray of anything at all was a big kid's job: a big responsibility.

Milk sloshed from side to side and his focus was intent on the glass. His still-baby teeth dug into his lip in concentration, and his little fingers gripped the handles of the small tray fiercely.

"Excellent! What a fine job!" Anna praised, petting his cheek. Not a drop was spilled, not a crumb sacrificed to the floor. He beamed with pride.

"Milk, Anna?" John examined the tray of mince pies, crinkling his nose at the tall glass of milk. "We always left the man some Brandy…to keep him warm."

"Well, he has a lot of driving to do tonight. We want him to be safe, don't we?" She teased with a cheeky smirk.

* * *

"So, Father Christmas really fits down the chimney?" Jack yawned.

"Yes, love," Anna answered, running her fingers through his hair gently. Their little man had snuggled up under his blankets and was ever-curious. The Night Before Christmas had been a tradition for Anna when she was small. Some of her fondest holiday memories were of her father reading the poem to her and her sister, but those memories were bested the moment she heard her husband's smooth voice reciting it to Jack. His voice did things to her. But, seeing him as the gentle and loving father he was did even greater things to her.

"But how?" Sleep was taking its hold on him. The words came out in a mumbled mess.

His parents laughed softly and looked to each other before John spoke up, "Magic, son. But he won't come at all if you're not asleep. So, off you go." He leaned forward to kiss his forehead, "Goodnight."

Anna placed a kiss of her own on the tip of his nose and caressed his cheek, "Goodnight, my darling."

His breathing was already heavy, and they slipped out of the room unnoticed. They leaned back against the closed door a moment. "Okay, ready? Go!"

Taking to every corner and hiding spot they had, they gathered the wrapped presents to assemble under the tree.

"You checked the garage?" Anna asked.

He nodded, "You got the ones in the attic, yeah?"

"You know it," she replied, smugly. "It's your turn, you know."

Gesturing to his pocket, she swayed her hips seductively as she came closer to pull out the envelope from its hiding place, giving his rear an extra squeeze in the process. He growled softly and reached for her hips, "I'm sure it can wait a little while, why don't we—"

"Uh-uh, envelope first, Mr. Bates," she skipped away and held it out to him, a smile in her eyes.

"You saucy minx," he breathed. Pursing his lips and glancing at her one last time, he opened it. He drew a deep breath before reading aloud, "Welcome to the journey, you've only just begun. It won't be too long, but let's have a little fun." Laughter begun to take its toll on his voice as he continued, "Over the wash, where it's not too posh, you'll find your next clue all covered in blue." Knowing what she was expecting him to do, he gave her a look that begged for mercy, "Anna," he grumbled lightly.

"Oh, come on, John. Please?"

Maybe it was the pleading tone in her voice. Maybe it was the hopeful look behind her eyes, or the way she anxiously nibbled at her lip. Maybe it was because he loved her more than life and would do anything she wished, at any time, and at any cost. Maybe, just maybe he was curious to see what she had up her sleeve. Without any words, he headed to the laundry room. He could hear her following closely behind as they went through the kitchen and towards the back of the house.

 _ **What's blue in here?**_ John shuffled around the small room squinting suspiciously. The doorframe supported a grinning Anna, looking on as though she could see the wheels turning inside his mind.

 _ **There's this pile of dirty blue jeans… No. She wouldn't, would she?**_ There wasn't much he could put past his Anna; so, with a raised eyebrow, he bent and reached into the basket, haphazardly lifting and peeking. If it wasn't for the stifled laugh coming from behind him, he would've checked every pocket. Standing with a grunt, he looked around. _**Not in the washer…The dryer is empty…**_ He cocked his head to the side. That's when the shelf came into focus. _**But that's too small…or is it? Wouldn't it get wet?**_

The detergent bottle slammed the top of the dryer and John narrowed his eyes at her. He unscrewed the blue measuring cap and turned it over to see a strip of paper cleverly protected by a plastic baggie. His triumphant expression quickly changed to that of wonder. _**How did she find the time to do all of this?**_ Shaking his head in disbelief, he pried the clue loose and uncoiled it. Like the last one, he took a breath and read aloud, "Down in the loo, there's something in store for you. It's not what you think (it surely won't stink). You may want to think pink. ;)"

"Well?"

"You clever, naughty girl," John said. "I deserve a kiss for this, you know."

She hummed in agreement as he came to meet her at the door. He leant down to present her with his cheek, an expectant look on his face. There was something about the barest hint of stubble and the fullness of his cheek that she would never get enough of. When she pulled away, her own pink cheeks gave away her thoughts to him. Of course he knew, and, he would let her know that he knew. He smirked and gave a light swat to her hip as he sashayed onward, following his next clue.

His chances were 50/50. The downstairs bathroom was closest, but it didn't sway his decision to check there first. Seeing as how it consisted of a mere toilet and sink, it seemed the less likely option. The main bathroom on the upper floor, however, made the most sense. A flick of the light switch revealed a bright and lively shower curtain, but it wasn't pink. _**Come on, John, think.**_ He shrugged. _**Well, you have to start somewhere.**_

He reached and pulled back the curtain to the bath and was immediately struck by memories. It was an odd thought-to have fond, warm feelings towards a bathroom. But, how could he not? It was a hub of family life. Well, many rooms were. So drenched in memories all their own, they could each tell the story of who they were as a family. Aren't those collective memories what makes a place a home anyway?

He laughed inwardly, remembering the time Anna yanked back the curtain to "check for serial killers" that time they watched a particularly suspenseful film. The embarrassment written on her face was as plain as day when he caught her in the act. What she didn't know was how endearing it was to him. A tender smile appeared when he glanced down into the tub itself and images of his precious son came racing in. The pirate ship tipped to one side left it's sailors marooned in the now-dry basin. Wasn't it yesterday that it was a soft rubber ducky and a squishy foam ball? Now he wages war on the high seas and spells out full words with foam letters on the tile. Forever imprinted on his mind were the sounds of those baby shrieks and giggles and the happy splashes of uncoordinated feet in the shallow water; and it brought a pang to John's heart. _**We won't be getting those days back.**_ He sighed softly. _**At least we still have some time left to keep making Mohawks and lumberjack beards out of bubbles.**_ He smirked. _**Hmm, bubbles…**_ How many times had he come into this sanctuary to find his wife buried under a mountain of bubbles and scented oils? The candles she lit would always give her an angelic glow, but the leg she draped seductively over the edge of the tub spoke of intentions far from angelic. The intimacy of their showers together; the mundane bits of life like splashing each other on cleaning day; scooping up their son and smothering him in warm towels and kisses; watching his wife hurriedly painting her nails as a last-minute touch before a night out… _**Nails, bingo!**_ He snapped back to attention. _**Where does she keep that bloody pink nail polish?**_

Spinning to see the vanity, he swung the lower cabinet open. He sat back on his heels with a sigh. _**Bloody hell, everything's pink under here.**_ He could thank internet sales for the accumulation of every pink and flowery lotion known to man residing under their sink. Extra bottles of hand soap, makeup palettes, the backup supply of those fluffy sponges she likes so much…all pink, all in one place. _**Hell, even her tweezers are pink.**_ Her supply of nail polish teemed over the edge of the bucket, consisting of the entire spectrum of pink. Yet, with everything hinting that he was in the right place, he came up empty handed. _**May as well just check the upper cabinet, nothing wrong with being thorough.**_

On a whim, he stood and flipped open the top cabinet. Rolling his eyes and huffed as he picked up the Pepto-Bismol, plucking the scallop-edged tag from the ribbon that attached it.

"In this little zone that we call our own, you'll finally reach the end of your road.

Your journey is done, or just begun—you tell me when you find your payload.

Sometimes a dream is more than what it seems."

With a smile, he turned on his heel, rounding the corner for their bedroom. In the length of hallway, Anna leaned against the wall innocently, waiting for him to find his last clue. Waggling his eyebrows at her, he passed. She followed behind at a distance, her own anxiety beginning to grow. _**What if he doesn't like what he finds? Oh, don't be ridiculous, Anna, of course he will.**_ She steadied herself with a deep breath and came to the doorway to watch the final leg of his search. As it turned out, he knew exactly where to go. She had been known to leave little gifts and notes for him under his pillow over the course of their marriage. Why would now be any different? Looking self-satisfied, he turned with a small wrapped package in his hand, his own bed pillow in the other. He sat and felt the edges with his fingers as if trying to guess the contents.

"Go on, open it," she prodded. From her place against the doorframe, she twisted her ring. When the rustling paper stilled, she looked up and met his bemused eyes.

He looked from her and back to the small framed photo two or three more times before springing to his feet.

"Really?" he rasped.

Tears began to form and tightened within her throat; all she could manage was a quick nod.

A photo of an ultrasound exam fell to the bed, and within two steps, she was wrapped in his arms.

 _A week earlier…_

 _Jack must've brought it home with him from school. Kids brought home illnesses all the time. They're taught to share things, but it would be nice if they could spare their families the germs every now and then. His upset stomach spread through the house, bringing both John and Anna down with him. Everyone recovered quickly…except Anna. That's when she started to hope. She was no stranger to hope. After all this time, it seemed it wasn't in the cards for them, even though they certainly hadn't done anything to prevent it. But, it made so much sense, all the other signs pointed to it. Even though her cycle was always unpredictable, the lack of it wasn't enough for her to believe. To consider their dream may finally be coming true was almost too much for her. To stir up her deepest wish once again only to be proved wrong would be crushing. They were always thankful and beyond blessed to have Jack, but their dream was more. It was in the "hands of God," they had agreed. Whatever came their way, they would welcome with arms wide open. A whole houseful, if possible. She didn't want to tell John what she was thinking just yet, to get his hopes up for nothing. Besides, six years had passed with no signs of another little one to join their tribe._ _ **Another week or so wouldn't hurt, would it?**_

 _What was convenient was the timing; she was already set for an annual exam._

 _She made them perform the test twice. Just to be sure._

" _Anna, we're quite sure," they reassured. Still, it wasn't enough. So, they made an offer._

" _We don't typically do these for another week or so, but since you're here…" She fixed her gaze on her doctor, listening intently, "We can probably see and hear a heartbeat by now with an ultrasound. You can see for yourself."_

 _A rapid swishing sound filled the room. Anna could swear it was the most beautiful sound in the world. Her eyes pooled with unshed tears, obscuring her vision of the screen next to her. The baby's heartbeat fluttered perfectly in view. Holding the printed image in her hand, the idea struck…_

"My darling, when?…how?…Oh, my God!" John spluttered. He pulled back slightly, still holding her hips. His eyes darted from her head to her toes as if examining her to see if he could detect any changes himself.

She giggled softly as he wiped the tear that had begun to make a path down her cheek. His own eyes glistened suspiciously as well.

"Well, you _know_ how," she teased, "but I think it may have had something to do with that Halloween party…"

He rumbled appreciatively at the memory of a pair of shapely legs covered in white fishnet stockings that led all the way up to a barely concealed bottom. The vinyl, form-fitting nurse uniform and hat pushed him over the edge—especially since she was so willing to "take care" of her patient. At least his simple hospital gown and heart-emblazoned boxers gave her easy access to all the parts of him that needed attention.

With a sigh, she continued, "…but I wanted it to be true. So badly. I didn't want to tell you before I knew for sure."

"You could've told me…"

"No…nothing's worse than false hope," she shook her head, " I couldn't bear it if it wasn't real."

He took her hands in his own and smiled softly, "But it is real."

She smiled at that, "It is." Tears sprang up anew for the both of them. "Are you happy?"

 _ **Happy? Is she mad? There aren't words for this.**_ He brought a hand to touch his chest, positive his heart would leap from its confines if he didn't hold it in place. "I am the happiest I've ever been…except for when Jack was born, of course."

She smiled even wider at thought of her baby boy, "He'll be so excited to be a big brother, won't he?"

He snorted, "He's only asked a few hundred times!" They shared a laugh.

"Heaven knows that's true," Anna rolled her eyes playfully. As sweet as it was, it brought a pang to her heart to recall the times she overheard him praying for a little brother or sister. For as many times as he prayed, she prayed a thousand times more. Now that those prayers were answered, she had only to wait. But anything could happen, really.

Sensing the change in her thoughts, John reached out to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, allowing his hand to linger under her chin for a moment, "Hey," he paused, waiting for her to look at him before he continued. "Nothing will go wrong," he spoke softly.

She pursed her lips and nodded tightly. "You're right, I'm just being silly."

"You're not silly to worry; it's only natural." He leant down, his lips tenderly kissing her forehead. "Nothing will go wrong," he repeated.

She marveled at him. It was a gift that no one else had, to make her feel at peace with just a few words or even a look. "I love you."

His lips twisted and ultimately quirked to the side as he answered, "I know."

"You silly beggar! Quoting Star Wars at me?!" Eyes wide, she pushed him away, her smile spreading across her features.

"I couldn't resist," he chuckled, shoulders shaking.

"Obviously," she shook her head, "Come on. Let's go have some tea."

With his hand at the small of her back, he led her out.

* * *

The soft crackling from the hearth filled the room, while the warm glow of the fire cast a hypnotic spell over its occupants. Two mugs sat forgotten on opposite end-tables, their steam long dissipated. Anna nestled her head deeper into the crook of John's neck. His arm wrapped around her shoulder protectively as his fingers traced lazy patterns on her arm. Their bare feet lay intertwined on the table before them.

Hazily, she twisted to lavish his chin with a simple kiss. He grinned. Taking a deep breath, he began, "You know, I was thinking about when we should tell Jack."

Her eyebrows scrunched momentarily as she sat up to look at him fully, tucking her legs underneath her, "You don't think tomorrow is a good idea? Would that not make the best surprise?"

"Well," he winced and reached up to scratch the back of his neck. "Uh…I'd really rather him not think it's a gift from Santa."

"Why ever not?" she snorted.

Pulling his feet down from their resting place, he fidgeted. Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he stammered, "I just, I don't know…I don't want him getting the wrong idea, is all."

Addled, she stared at him, tilting her head vaguely.

"…the wrong idea about Santa…" he hoped that would clear things up. It didn't. His hands flailed helplessly. "Well, I don't want him thinking that our dear Father Christmas is the one who put a baby in his mummy's tummy, never mind going around telling people that." His words came out in a rush, and he looked desperately into her eyes waiting for a response.

The look of utter confusion subtly shifted to surprise, and from surprise came disgust; after which, a wide smile split her face. The laughter was silent at first, evidenced only by a twitch of her shoulders. But, she buried her face in her hands when she loosed a guffaw that echoed throughout the room.

"I'm glad you think it's funny," he murmured.

"Oh John," she said, in between rounds of laughter. "You don't find that at least a little bit funny?" She wrapped his larger hands between her own.

Truthfully, he was a bit embarrassed. From a logical point of view, he could admit that he was being silly. As usual, his wife was right. One day, he wasn't sure when, but he knew that one day she would be wrong, and he would relish that day.

He shrugged and smiled sheepishly at her.

"My sweet, adorable, silly husband." She leaned in to kiss his cheek with a loud smack. "What would I do without you?"

The wrinkles around his eyes deepened with his smile.

Satisfied, she sat back, declaring, "Alright, I'll confess I do agree with you—not all the way," she raised her hands as if to stop him interrupting, "—but I do. He's six. I can see it playing out just as you said, simply because you brought it up. We'll be packing off to your mother's and she'll ask him what Santa brought him and…well…that'd just feel awkward."

His eyes sparkled as he looked at her silently.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You think I'm right," he stated.

"Well…you're not completely wrong."

"You think I'm right," he repeated, smirking.

"I…" she started.

"I thought this day would never come," he butted in, "the day you admit I'm 'not completely wrong,' " he let his voice trail off.

She squinted at him, pursing her lips before looking down, giggling. "You silly beggar," she whispered warmly.

His long fingers reached out to brush her cheek reverently, drawing her closer to him. She pulled in a deep breath, inhaling the general smokiness of the air, but also the comforting scent of his cologne, aftershave, and all the little things that are unique to her John. As their lips touched, she could feel all the anxious anticipation and doubt of the day leaving her. Instead, all that remained was the heady buzz of excitement, a fervent longing, and an unending love sealed up in one perfect moment.

Slowly, they snuggled back down into the cushions, her head finding its place on his shoulder and their feet weaving together once more.

His deep voice rumbled, "Maybe it won't be a Christmas surprise for Jack, but for me, it's the best one I could ever have imagined." His arms tightened around her.

"Happy Christmas, John."

"Happy Christmas, my darling," he glanced at her meaningfully before letting his head rest back on the padding.

Through the front window, flashes of white fluttered in the air, the lights from the tree bringing them to focus. Gifts were piled high underneath the branches, full of the promise of a joyous and exciting morning to come. The advent calendar and all of its boxes that sat empty of material goods, was replete with memories they wouldn't soon forget. Snaps and hisses from the fireplace remained the only sounds in the stillness of the room. It wasn't long before those sounds were joined by that of soft snores.

* * *

 **A/N: To give credit where it's due, this was originally sparked by the OTP prompt- "It's Christmas, and your OTP has an advent calendar where they put small gifts and cards for each other. Person A finds out they're pregnant, and places a picture of their ultrasound in the advent calendar for Person B to find. How does Person B react?"**


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